Anchors

“Hello Handsome Mr. Kitty!”  “Here’s your breakfast sweetie!” “Do you want to go for a walk sweet girl?”

These are the phrases that tumbled from my lips countless times over the past few weeks, as I fed, walked, and cared for my cat and my dog.

The last few weeks have been hard. The news—mass shooting, white nationalist march, supreme court rulings: take your pick—pulling at the edges of my consciousness, dragging me down to a lost, hopeless place. And yet, the cat and the dog need food, need walks, need love. And so there have been glimpses of true life over the past few weeks as well.

I was gripped by this thought—that my pets have been and are my furry warm anchors—yesterday, as my dog curled herself into my side as I set out to write this devotional. I was without words, and then her presence pulled me into that moment, wiped the grime of the world from my lenses, and I felt awake to life for a breath.

I slip in and out of being present and aware—we all do. In our “default mode”, we are more often projecting into the future or recalling the past than in the present moment. When I listen to the news, my mind is running simultaneous simulations: what if this (mass shooting, white nationalist march, supreme court rulings: take your pick) is just the beginning? What if this (mass shooting, white nationalist march, supreme court rulings: take your pick) is not what if this seems? What if, what if, what if? It feels hopeless and helpless.

But then my anchors pull me back and ground me. I sometimes remember the wisdom I’ve learned (from life, from Holly, from school): that I can DO something about this (mass shooting, white nationalist march, supreme court rulings: take your pick). Not to prevent what’s been done, but to be part of the healing and recovery. Part of the good work.

And sometimes, I remember, as well, to be so immensely, so utterly and absolutely grateful for my anchors. And for the God that made them part of the world.

Creator, thank you for the anchors that pull us back to you and to your truth. Give us the clarity to see that we can be a part of building your just kingdom and give us the strength to do that work each day.  Amen

Elizabeth is a nearly minted psychologist who has survived this journey with countless friends—human and animal alike.

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“Sometimes It’s Just The Little Things”